Read All About It
by ebi pers
Summary: "Believe it or not, Maya, my family isn't so different from yours." A class assignment forces Maya and Lucas to have a serious conversation, and Maya learns she and Huckleberry might not be so different after all.


**A/N: So I decided to produce a little Lucaya vignette because why not. I love everything about these characters and I think they would truly be great together. This piece was mostly inspired by the brief conversation between Maya and Lucas in Belief. They seem like they'd have their best conversations away from the rest of the gang, when they're on their own. When it's quiet. We also don't know much about Lucas's home life. His family seems to put a lot of pressure on him, as in Texas with the whole disgrace thing, and he doesn't seem to get along that well with his dad based on that phone conversation in Friendship. So I put those together and this is the result. Enjoy!**

* * *

For once, the project didn't come to them from Mr. Matthews, who always seemed bent on partnering his students in small groups for homework in an attempt to build communities. Instead, the project came from their family and consumer sciences teacher. On the surface, it was simple. Students were randomly assigned a partner. They would then sit down with each other after school ended and have a conversation. A _real_ conversation, their teacher emphasized. This was a lesson on interpersonal communication and there was a list of banned topics, alongside a list of suggested ones. One hour. No phone. No TV. No distractions. No excuses. They would have to introduce their partner to the class the next day, and their partner wasn't allowed to speak during the presentation. Simple. Until Maya reached into the bag and drew Lucas's name. She only hoped that Riley was having an easier time getting to know Back-of-the-Class Brenda.

"So how do you wanna do this?" Lucas cornered Maya at her locker after school. Riley shut the door to her own locker beside them.

"Good luck," she shot a sideways glance to Maya as Brenda joined her at her side and the two progressed down the hall and out of sight.

"I dunno," Maya mumbled, burrowing deeper into her locker. Her math textbook was suddenly very interesting.

"You could…come over, if you want," the boy offered. "I mean my mom's probably gonna be home but it'll be quiet enough."

"Look," the blonde pulled her face out of her locker and turned to face him. "I already know everything I need to know about you, Huckleberry."

"Oh do you?" he smirked. "What exactly do you know?"

"Easy. You're a sheep-ridin', wholesome-eatin', tractor-tippin', britches wearin', lasso-in' Huckleberry, Patron Saint of the Rodeo."

He threw up his hands in mock surrender. "Ya got me," he replied sarcastically. "You're gonna go in front of the class and say all that and I won't even be able to argue."

Maya knew he was being sarcastic. She _knew_ it and yet she found herself smiling as if he were serious.

"But what am I gonna tell the class about you?" he asked.

"Easy. I'm a tortured, paint-covered short stack of pancakes with daddy issues. Good work, partner! See you tomorrow." She slammed her locker shut and made for the door.

Lucas's strong grip on her shoulder stopped her and she found herself being spun around to face him. "I'm serious, Maya," he was looking down into her eyes and she found herself suddenly short of breath. "I wanna get to know _you_. Will you come over?"

The blonde thought for a moment, then rolled her eyes. "Fine. Whatever. But only so you can give the class a flattering presentation on me." She started off toward the exit again, Lucas striding to keep pace with her.

"I reckon I've got a couple of surprises in me, too," he said.

* * *

Maya had been to Lucas's apartment exactly one time before, when they were working on Mr. Matthews's muffin company project. It was a tidy two-bedroom in NoHo, furnished as if a small piece of Texas had been dropped into New York City. Rocking chairs and carved horses and lots of rustic wood and floral prints and lacy edges. It smelled like pine needles. A perfect little Huckleberry apartment.

"Mama, I'm home," Lucas called out as he let the two of them into the house. "I brought Maya."

"Well, hello, Maya," Lucas's mother greeted warmly, emerging from the living room.

"Hey, Mama Huckleberry!" the blonde greeted cheerfully, accepting the woman's hug.

Maya was surprised the first time she met Mrs. Friar. Surprised that she greeted her like they had known each other forever, as if Lucas and Maya had grown up together. Surprised with her appearance. She expected her to match the apartment—lacy and covered in floral prints and smelling like pine needles. Instead she was clad in jeans and a simple lavender sweater, blonde hair straight and down to her shoulders. She looked much the same now, although her sweater was white today.

"To what do I owe this pleasure?" Mrs. Friar asked.

"We're working on a project," Lucas filled in, crossing to hug his mother as well.

"Aw, for Mr. Matthews?"

"No, uh, surprisingly we do have other teachers that give us work from time-to-time," her son responded. "This one's for our family and consumer sciences class."

"We're going to interpersonally connect," Maya told her.

"Well that sounds exciting," Mrs. Friar answered. "Why don't you two have a seat and interpersonally connect, and I'll see what I can rustle up in the way of snacks."

"Thanks, Mama," Lucas said.

"Yeah, thanks Mama," Maya imitated, dropping onto the couch. She felt herself sinking into the over-stuffed, white upholstery. Lucas sat beside her, angling himself so he was facing her and resting his arm over the back of the sofa. He reached into his pocket and shut off his phone. Maya reluctantly did the same and they both left their devices on the coffee table.

"So…what do we talk about?" Maya questioned.

"Maybe we should start with what we _can't_ talk about. Here, let's take a look at this list of banned topics," Lucas suggested, unzipping his backpack and pulling out the sheet of paper. He scanned it with his eyes. "Banned topics. You may not discuss the following: TV shows, movies, sports unless you went to a game, music unless you saw it live, favorites—color, food, etc., school gossip, or the weather. Try to avoid making small talk. And on the recommended topics list, we have—"

"Lucas, what does your mom do, exactly?" she frowned, interrupting him. The sound of pans banging around in the kitchen told her that 'rustle up' actually meant 'make from scratch' and she wondered how the woman had the time.

The boy shrugged. "She's a homemaker."

"She doesn't work?"

"Nope. Hasn't worked since I was born."

"Aw, does Papa Sundance bring home the bread?" Maya's tone was childish and she expected him to play along. Instead, his face contorted into a tight smile.

"Yeah. Yeah, my dad makes enough so Mama doesn't have to go to work outside."

"Must be the life," the blonde stretched out on the couch.

"I dunno," Lucas answered. "I mean, she does a lot around the house. She has to cook, clean…I don't get how she isn't bored with it. She has a college degree, y'know."

"Huh," Maya nodded slowly, searching the floral pattern on the couch and picking listlessly at a loose thread in the cushion.

Mrs. Friar emerged from the kitchen. "Brownies'll be ready in about twenty minutes," she announced, surveying her son and his guest. "I'm gonna leave you kids to your project. I'll be in the bedroom. If you need me, just shout!"

The sound of the door shutting down the hall told the two they were alone.

"So," Lucas began.

"So," Maya answered. "What's on that list of recommended topics?"

"Let's see. There's hobbies…"

"I like art. You like cowboy things. Next."

He smiled. "There's trips we've taken…"

"I've only ever left the East Coast once and you took the trip from Austin to join us," she said.

"There's ambitions…"

"I have none and you're gonna give birth to horses for a living."

Lucas frowned. "Maya, you aren't serious, are you?"

"Serious about what, Hop-along?" She slouched in her seat.

"Not having ambition. I mean, there's gotta be something you wanna do with your life. Right?"

"Well, gosh-golly, Huckleberry, I'm sure there must be somethin' a lil' ol' gal like me could do with her life," she answered in an exaggerated southern drawl. "I just don't know what," she finished in her normal voice.

"You're a great artist," he offered. "But ambition doesn't just have to be about a job, y'know."

"Oh yeah? What else can it be, Cowboy?" Maya sensed the conversation was taking a serious turn and wasn't sure if she was ready for it.

"I dunno," Lucas shrugged. "It could be about where you wanna go to school for college or someplace you wanna go or where you wanna live or…how many kids you wanna have…"

" _If_ I wanna have kids," Maya put in.

"If," he corrected in agreement and falling silent.

"Do you?" Maya asked.

Lucas seemed caught off-guard. "What? Have kids?" She nodded. "I mean, yeah. I think I do."

"How many little Ranger Ricks and Huckleberries are you gonna have?" the blonde sat up, a playful grin overtaking her features. It dropped when he didn't return the grin.

"I don't know how many I want," he furrowed his brow in concentration. "More than one."

"You'll be a good dad," she tried to reassure him, not entirely sure what had caused the shift in mood.

"I hope so," Lucas shook his head. "One thing's for sure. However many I have, I'll never try to force my kids to be something they're not. Or try to make them live up to something they don't want to live up to."

Maya frowned. "Yeah…"

"What about you?" he snapped out of whatever reverie he was lost in and turned his attention back to her.

"I don't know how many I want either…"

"But you do want kids?" he didn't seem terribly surprised.

Maya shrugged. "Yeah. Yeah, I'd like to have at least one. And I'll always be there for them. I won't leave them the way my dad left me. And I _never_ want to be in my mom's position…"

"I would never do that to you," Lucas replied before he knew what he was saying. His eyes immediately went wide and Maya snapped her gaze to him. "I mean, y'know, I would never do that to my wife and kids an-and I hope that…it never happens to you, either…"

"I know what you meant, Huckleberry."

"You'd be a good mother, Maya," he returned her compliment.

"Thanks."

They lapsed into silence for a while. "That stuff you were saying earlier," Maya broke the quiet abruptly. "About how you won't force your kids to be what they're not…Where did that come from?"

Lucas sighed and looked across the couch at her, unsure how to begin. "Believe it or not, Maya, my family isn't so different from yours."

She fixed him with a look. "Yeah, right," she retorted.

"No, I'm serious," Lucas leaned closer, dropping his voice to a whisper so his mother couldn't hear even if she were listening.

Maya's face dropped along with her own volume. Her voice took on a lethal edge. She reminded him of a wounded animal. Defensive. Aggressive. Hurt. "If you're trying to make fun of me, it's not funny," she threatened.

"Maya, I would never make fun of you about your family!" Lucas was hurt she would even suggest such a thing. But at the same time he couldn't blame her.

"Huckleberry, what could you possibly know about my family?" Maya asked in exasperation. "You've got this pretty little dolled-up apartment and your mama makes brownies and your papa goes to work and comes home every day. All that's missing is a little sister in pig-tails to make your perfect little Huckleberry family complete." She paused, then frowned. "You don't…actually have a sister, do you?"

Lucas smiled patiently. "I'm an only child. Just like you."

"Yeah, we're exactly the same," she bit out in response.

"And I know what it looks like on the outside," he continued. "But I also understand your situation a bit more than you think."

"Do you?" Maya stood, unable to sit beside him any longer. If this was some sort of game, she was tired of playing. She dropped into an arm chair opposite the sofa and folded her arms across her chest. "Do you really, Ranger Rick? Because I'm not so sure. I'm not so sure you understand what it's like to come home to an empty apartment. Or to need help with your homework but the only person around is your Grandma and she never finished high school so she doesn't know. I'm not so sure you get what it's like to have a mother who has to work double shifts five days a week just to keep the lights on. I don't think you know what it feels like to lie awake in bed _every night_ wondering why your dad didn't come home and what you could have done to stop it. You don't know what it's like to _know_ he's out there and to not be able to _get_ to him. To _talk_ to him. To understand." Tears welled up in her eyes and her voice rose incrementally with each accusation until she was practically screaming at him. "You. Don't. Get it," she said quietly, dropping her gaze to the woodgrain of the coffee table between them.

Mrs. Friar emerged from the room at the sound of yelling and paused in the doorway. Lucas shot her a glance, pleading with her not to say anything. She moved to the kitchen while the two sat quietly and finally came out with a plate of brownies, neatly cut into rectangles. "Brownies are done," she said softly, setting the plate down on the coffee table. The tension in the room was heavy. Almost palpable. "If you, uh, want some milk there's some in the fridge. And if you need anything else just, uh, give me a holler," she finished cheerfully. Maya watched the woman retreat stiffly to her bedroom. She felt a pang of remorse. The cowboy hadn't meant to offend her. But he should've known better than to try to relate to her family life.

"Maya…" Lucas bit his lip nervously, trying to read her expression. He got up, approaching carefully, and sat down in the arm chair beside her. She said nothing but she made no move to get up either. "Maya…," he began again quietly. Calmly. "You're right. I may not know what it's like to come home to an empty apartment every day. My mom's always here. And I might not have to lie in bed at night wondering where my dad is. But I know what it's like to lie awake at night wondering how you let your family down this time."

Her blue eyes darted upwards from the arm of the chair and made contact with his green. His eyes were smiling sadly. "My dad still lives here. He still puts food on the table. But sometimes…most times, it's like I don't have a father at all. At least not where it counts. I don't lie in bed at night wondering where he is. But I do lie awake at night wondering why he isn't proud of me. I lie awake and wonder what I'm supposed to be doing, what I should be doing better, what it takes to please him."

"Huckleberry, what are you talking about? How could he not be proud?"

Lucas shrugged as if the answer eluded him too. "You know, my whole life, he's never said those words. He's never said 'I'm proud of you.'" He could feel pressure building behind his eyes and smiled even more tightly to fight it back. His throat was suddenly tight. "He's told me plenty of times what I'm doing wrong. I mean, you know about that whole sheep thing. I was a little kid and he never let me forget it. I rode Tombstone the bull! I stayed in the saddle for what felt like forever and you know what the first thing Dad told me when I told him was? 'You should've held on for longer.' It just…I dunno. Just feels like…well, maybe that's all he sees. What I'm doing wrong." He scanned the floor with his eyes, fixating on the dusty-pink loops and whorls in the print of the rug, then picked his gaze back up with a smile. Maya's eyes were glassy. "So believe me," he finished. "I think I know how you feel sometimes."

Maya offered him a wan smile. "I'm sorry. I didn't…"

"I know," he interrupted gently, nodding his head in resignation.

"Lucas, that's awful," Maya stood up. "You've done so many _amazing_ things and you're an _amazing_ guy." She paused, then jabbed a finger at him, "and don't you dare repeat that to anyone or I will hunt you down."

He laughed. "Thanks, Maya."

"You don't deserve to be treated that way."

"No one does," he shook his head. "But we can't control that. Your dad is your dad, and my dad is mine. Sometimes, feels like the only reason he even wanted to have me was so I could keep the legacy going. Show the world how great the Friar name is."

Maya sat back down, this time leaning across the arm of her chair and searching his face. "Guess we're not the only ones who think you're Mr. Perfect, huh?"

Lucas shook his head and made some attempt at a laugh. "You might think I'm Mr. Perfect, but at least you don't expect me to be that way all the time."

The blonde thought for a moment. "Is that why you…y'know, back in Texas?"

The boy pursed his lips for a moment and thought. "Yeah," he finally nodded. "Yeah, I guess it is…I guess I wanted to show him."

"Show him what?"

"That he can't control me, y'know. That I'm still gonna mess up. That no matter how hard he tries, he can't force me to be Mr. Perfect if I don't wanna be."

"Do you?" Maya's voice was soft, almost shy, and she wasn't sure if she wanted to know the answer or not.

"Do I what?"

"Do you want to be Mr. Perfect? Or are you still acting all Ranger Rick, the Perfect Gentleman for your dad?"

Lucas thought for a moment, unsure what to say.

"Because you know what I think, Huckleberry?"

He shook his head.

"I don't think you're really Mr. Perfect."

His eyes darted upward in surprise and she caught the way his jaw dropped. She smiled secretively.

"You don't?"

"I don't," she shook her head.

"Then who do you think I am?" he asked hesitantly.

"I think you're Texas Lucas trying very hard to be a better person than he used to be."

"Yeah?" he pondered for a minute.

"Yeah," Maya nodded. "What I can't figure out is why."

Lucas rested his chin in his hand and cocked his head to the side. "Do you remember what Mr. Matthews taught us about the secret of life?"

"People change people," Maya replied. Somehow everything always came back to that lesson.

Lucas nodded. "Maybe I am Texas Lucas trying real hard to be a better person. Maybe I saw how my actions led to losing everyone I cared about back in Austin. And maybe this time around, I have too much to lose. Maybe New York has changed me. Maybe _you_ changed me into a better person. How'm I doing?"

Maya sat, stunned into silence until she noticed Lucas's green eyes boring in her, eager, _desperate_ for an answer. She rose from her seat and crossed behind his arm chair, leaning over the back and draping her arms over his shoulders. He turned his head to look her full in the face, smiling tightly with anticipation. "You're doing great, Huckleberry," she said seriously. "You're doing great."

They stayed that way for a while before Lucas finally glanced at the clock on the wall. "Look at that," he tilted his head back to look at her. "It's been more than an hour."

Maya perched on the arm of his chair. "We didn't even get to go over all the topics on the list," she said with mock disappointment. "What'd we miss?"

"Well let's see," Lucas retrieved the paper from the coffee table and skimmed over it. "The last thing we discussed was ambitions, so the next thing should've been…huh," he frowned at the page.

"Should've been what?" Maya leaned towards him, craning her neck to see.

"Should've been family," Lucas replied with a smile.

* * *

Lucas was already in class when Maya arrived and dropped down into her seat in front of him. She turned to face Riley beside her. "How'd your conversation with Brenda go?"

Riley glanced back at the classmate in question and smiled. Brenda waved. She waved back. "It went well. Brenda's full of surprises. I think I made a new friend. How did yours go with Lucas?"

Maya's eyes darted to the boy behind her. He shot her a knowing smile. "Great," the blonde answered with a grin of her own, turning back to her best friend. "Really great."


End file.
